


Mending Broken Feathers

by FlorentineQuill



Series: Preening Her, Preening Him [6]
Category: Maleficent - Fandom
Genre: Awkward Maleficent is awkward, F/M, Platonic Cuddling, allusions to torture, trustyservant inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 15:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2029464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlorentineQuill/pseuds/FlorentineQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maleficent comforts Diaval after he has been rescued from their enemies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Imping

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by trustyservant's amazing [drawing](http://trustyservant.tumblr.com/post/92720773275/maleval-week-day-1-cuddling-shhh-just-pretend)

Maleficent ran her fingers through Diaval’s hair, combing through it again and again. _If only my own thoughts were as easily ordered_ , she thought dully. It had been a very long couple of weeks, for the both of them. Diaval, abducted and held— tortured— by several nobles who were against the unification of Aurora’s kingdom and Moors. Herself, working with Aurora to track him down and end those who had hurt him. Her lips thinned in satisfaction at the memory of blood on her hands, bones crunching under her fingers as she had fought.

Diaval shifted in his sleep, fingers curling around the base of her folded wings. It had taken several precarious days of riding in the back of a jostling wagon for her to heal his wounds. On their own, the individual injuries weren’t particularly life threatening but heaped together…Maleficent shivered in the cool night air. 

_“Dogs, mistress,” he whispered to her in a moment of lucidity, sweat-slick skin shuddering under her hands. “They had dogs.”_

_Her heart skidded against her ribs but she forced herself to keep her breathing calm as she held palmfuls of magic against his wounds, burning away infection and knitting muscle and skin back together with nary a scar. “Rest, Diaval,” she replied. “You’re safe now.”_

“You’re safe now,” she repeated aloud and grimaced. _With no help from me. If he had not been ambassador, he never would have been in danger._

His confession of love months before had frightened her— She had been considering making him the official ambassador of the Moors in Aurora’s court since the day after the battle. However, she couldn’t lie well enough to herself to say that his words hadn’t influenced her decision. Panicked, she had given him a pendant that would let him change his shape on his own and sent him off to Aurora’s court.

Months had passed. He had flown back and forth between the castle and the Moors, bringing her reports and seeking her thoughts on how they best bring the two, disparate, lands together with promises of commerce and defense and magic. True to his word, he had not asked anything of her. Beyond that, he had brought her word of Aurora herself, of the boy-prince who was still present (much to their mutual displeasure), and of the nobles who were flocking to Aurora’s court.

Diaval shifted again and she glanced down, see if he was waking— No. He sighed and she shivered as his breath gusted across her stomach. He was warm, serving as an impromptu blanket with the way he was tucked against her side and draped over her, head tucked between her breasts. She carded her fingers through his hair again. Curled her other hand around the slumped curve of his shoulder in a light embrace. She could feel him breathing this way, slow and steady. 

She let her eyes slide half-shut, focusing on the thrum of magic under her fingertips. She hadn’t realized how much of her magic she had shared with him, over the past eighteen years. Summoning him, tracking him to a lesser extent, and the different forms she had changed him into…She swallowed. Extending his life, far beyond a raven’s natural years. “Oh, Diaval,” she murmured. “What have I done to you?”

“Maleficent?” 

She froze at the slurred whisper, felt his arms tighten around her. She didn’t look down at him, kept staring at the crescent moon and praying he didn’t notice how her heart beat harder. “Go back to sleep, Diaval.”

There was a flicker of movement at the edge of her vision as he blinked up at her. She felt his fingers working into the downy feathers at the roots of her wings. Her breath stuttered but he let out a sleepy mumble of assent and his eyes closed again. Her wings ached from the cramped position they were in but she didn’t move beyond winding her fingers through his hair. _Sleep, Diaval. You're safe now._


	2. Blood Feathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maleficent and Diaval wake up the next more and Maleficent has something to say.

Maleficent woke when Diaval stirred against her chest. She had dozed, on and off again, throughout the night. The sun was creeping up from the horizon when Diaval roused. She held still, fingers still tangled in his hair. She watched him through half-open eyes, and couldn’t help but smirk as he realized _where_ he had been sleeping, muscles tense under his skin. “Morning, Diaval,” she murmured and he audibly swallowed.

“Good morning, Mistress,” he said quietly, breath warm across her ribs. 

“You used my name last night,” she said and combed her fingers through his hair one last time before (reluctantly) pulling away. 

He sat up slowly, muscles twitching and shuddering under his skin. His injuries might have been healed but his body remembered them. “I’m sorry,” he started to say.

“I didn’t mind,” she interrupted and his head snapped up. He stared at her for a moment but she didn’t look away. “My name,” she clarified after a moment. “I didn’t mind you using my name.” 

“Maleficent.” He said her name, testing the syllables on his tongue.

“Diaval,” she replied, arching her eyebrow in silent challenge and he cracked a small smile. It vanished when she asked, “How are you feeling?”

His eyes slid away from hers and his shoulders hunched. “Tired,” he said. “Sore.” He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the morning sunlight. “I might sunbathe for days,” he said, eyes still closed. His voice trembled. “Wherever they kept me, I couldn’t see the sun.”

Maleficent swallowed, wings itching to clamp down. “Diaval…” she said, more quietly. He looked at her and she folded her fingers into loose fists before she did something ill-advised. Like touch him again. “I’m the one who should be apologizing,” she said. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

Diaval reached out, put his hand on the back of hers. His palm was warm and rough and she felt her wings fluff. _Traitors,_ she thought distractedly. “We knew they wouldn’t have stayed quiet forever,” he said after a moment.

“This shouldn’t have happened to you!” she snapped but he didn’t move, metaphorical feathers unruffled. Her throat closed and she drew in a deeper, unsteady breath. “We didn’t know what we would find,” she got out. “I couldn’t even track you for the first two days.” She had barely slept, flying sweeping curves ahead of Aurora and the troops, dryad and human alike. Aurora had finally convinced her to rest on the third or fourth day, riding pillion with Balthazar on his war-hog.

“I knew you were coming for me,” he replied. “You would have torn the kingdom apart— with Aurora’s help— until you found me. It was just a matter of time.” He trembled but they both ignored it.

“How?” she asked, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “How can you have such faith?”

His eyes were gentle. “Eighteen years,” he said. “Fealty goes both ways, you know.”

“You think it was fealty that drove me to look for you?” she asked. She lifted her hand and cupped his cheek, brushing a bruised cheekbone with her thumb. Gold seeped into his skin and the bruise healed. His eyes widened but he didn’t move. “Diaval, I…” The words stuck in her throat. “I care for you,” she whispered. “More than I knew.”

He finally moved but only to lean into her hand. “May I do something?” he asked and her wings _did_ clamp down along her spine. She dropped her hand from his cheek. His eyes widened and he held up both hands. “Nothing like a kiss,” he said hurriedly and they were both blushing. “I— May I hug you?” he asked. 

“A…hug?” she asked. She was unsettled and relieved. She wasn’t used to very much physical contact at all. But she had been hugged by Aurora, several times. They were often, quick, darting things but they had been pleasant enough, if a little bruising. 

“If you don’t want to, it’s fine,” Diaval said, sitting back on his heels.

“I never said that,” she said. “I— There was never anyone to share hugs with,” she said, waving one hand and feeling terribly awkward. “My parents died when I was young and Balthazar isn’t really built for giving hugs.”

“I see,” Diaval said quietly. He held out his arms, raising his eyebrows in a silent question. 

She raised an eyebrow but sat up from where she had leaned against the truck of the great tree. She opened her own arms. Diaval shuffled forward on his knees and gently wrapped his arms around her waist. He rested his head on her shoulder and she let out the breath she had been holding, gingerly wrapping her arms around his waist.

“There, you see?” His voice was soft and amused. “Not so terrible as all that, is it?” 

She considered the fit of their bodies, how she could feel the heat of him, all along her chest and stomach and legs. She carefully rested her head on his shoulder, her face almost tucked against his neck so that she didn’t hit him with her horns. Something loosened inside her and she let out a sigh. “No,” she replied. “Not terrible at all.”

Diaval chuckled and she could feel it vibrate in his chest. He squeezed her once and they pulled away from each other, a little reluctantly. Diaval caught at one of her hands and smiled at her. “Is this ok?” he asked. “Little things like this?” He squeezed her hand.

“I believe I can cope,” she replied, lifting her chin.

Diaval leaned his head back and laughed. “Just as well, mistress,” he said with the first real smile she had seen on his face. “Ravens are terrible, tactile, creatures.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Well, this raven is,” he said with a shrug, and it was her turn to laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some couples have first kisses, Maleficent and Diaval have first hugs xD I think it'll take several months before she's comfortable enough to accept so much as a kiss on the hand but Diaval's patient/understanding. 
> 
> Gods bless trustyservant for posting her art, I'd be wondering how to get Maleficent to admit that she, perhaps, has feelings for a certain, loyal, raven.


End file.
